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The Painted Veil
Category: Historical
He was the kind of man who kept his word, even when it cost him.
The fire had burned down to embers, but neither of them moved to stoke it.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
The end.